


Eleven Shades of Sherlock

by Megg33k



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Crack, Fingerfucking, Hand Jobs, Humor, Light BDSM, M/M, Oral Sex, Riding Crop, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-17
Updated: 2012-08-17
Packaged: 2017-11-12 08:54:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/489054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megg33k/pseuds/Megg33k
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Eleventh Doctor pops into 221B Baker Street for a booty call...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eleven Shades of Sherlock

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theprofessorstrikesagain](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=theprofessorstrikesagain).



> This was requested by theprofessorstrikesagain after the whole of BD5HR was inpsired by a YouTube video.
> 
> The video which inspired it: http://youtu.be/AX4RMeIfUlo (moderately explicit content)
> 
> It was meant to be only mildly cracky, but it ended up going something like: crack, porn, cracky porn, feels, porn, crack, light BDSM, porn, a little more unanticipated crack, feels... Yeah... It is what it is!
> 
> There are Johnlock elements, but John doesn't actually appear in the fic as anything more than a mention.

Sherlock was playing his violin in the parlour when he heard a familiar whooshing, grinding whir from just outside. _Doctor?_ He waited. A few moments passed before there was a gentle rapping on the door of 221B. As per usual, Mrs. Hudson was quick to answer, while Sherlock listened intently from the top of the stairs.

“Mrs. H!” The voice was faint and far away, but there was no mistaking it.

“Oh, Doctor! How lovely to see you? Could I get you some tea, dear?”

“No, not just yet. Perhaps a bit later, thanks.”

“Alright, dear. I’ve been ‘round the shoppes and picked up some Jammy Dodgers in case you popped by.”

“Ah, brilliant! I’ll stop in before I go. I love a Jammy Dodger, me. Just need to speak with Sherlock first. Do you know if he’s in?”

“I believe he is. Would you like me to check?”

“No, no… I’ll just—” The Doctor was interrupted when Sherlock leaned out the door at the top of the stairs and silently waved him up.

The Doctor wasted no time bounding up the stairs toward the detective, a big, goofy grin on his face. Sherlock knew that grin, and he knew exactly why the Doctor was there. It hadn’t been so long since he’d last seen the man, but his visits still came all too infrequently for Sherlock’s taste.

Once they were inside the flat and the door safely closed behind them, the game began. It wasn’t the reason the Doctor was there, but it was the first game he had to play with everyone he made a point to visit every so often. Timeline comparison.

“Husband out?” the Doctor asked.

Sherlock’s eyes went wide. “Husband? Do you mean John?”

“You do know John already. Good, good.” It sounded more like a spoken thought than an answer, his proper response soon to follow. “What? No, of course not.” He was obviously lying. “Wibbly wobbly. Spoilers and whatnot.”

“Right. Of course.” Sherlock didn’t let on he could tell. “Try again.”

“Have you… ya know… St. Barts…” The Doctor whistled, his hand imitating a diving motion.

The detective quirked an eyebrow.

“Whoa. No? Okay then. You’d remember that one. Brilliant, you were. Ah, I love a good magic trick. I even helped a bit. Never mind that, though.”

“What?” Sherlock had never been so genuinely confused by the game before.

“Nothing. Does the name Sarah mean anything to you?”

“That insufferable woman John just started dating?”

“Excellent.” The Doctor smiled. “No guilt. Bedroom. Let’s go.”

As the questions round came to a screeching halt, Sherlock scampered off toward his room with the Doctor on his heels. Before the door had even shut behind them, the Doctor was already fumbling with the buttons on Sherlock’s shirt.

“Wait, wait…” Sherlock was already panting. Someone as important as the Doctor, someone he considered _almost_ as brilliant as himself, travelling through time and space just to ravage him did amazing things for his ego. Of course, that didn’t mean he didn’t still require a little foreplay. “Tell me about—” He bit his lip. “—her.”

“Oh, right.” The Doctor winced against his palm. “This.”

“Well, if I’m not worth—”

“No, no… I didn’t say that.” He sighed. “Architectural configuration matter assembly structure, dematerialization and materialization emitter…”

“Oh, god, yes.” Sherlock stripped off the Doctor’s jacket. “More!”

“Forcefield generators…”

“Mmmmm…” Sherlock hummed, his lips against the Doctor’s throat where he’d just tugged off the bow tie.

“Dimensional transmitter, communications and sensory antenna, multi-sensory and communication arraaaaa—” Sherlock’s hand against the front of the Doctor’s trousers seemed to have short circuited his brain.

The Doctor was already hard and hot against Sherlock’s palm. “Can I… play with it?”

“Yes, please, yes!”

Sherlock grinned. “Where is it?”

The Doctor let loose of the second to last button of Sherlock’s shirt, the purple fabric falling most of the way open and draping off of one of the detective’s shoulders. He looked confused, and then pained. “You mean the screwdriver, don’t you?”

“Obviously.”

“Breast pocket of my jacket.” The Doctor sighed again.

Sherlock scrambled to find the device and held it up at eye level, studying it. “Tell me about it.”

The Doctor moved behind Sherlock, one arm wrapped tight around his waist, pulling the man’s arse flush with his own hips. He rested his lips on the shell of the detective’s ear and spoke in a low, breathy tone. “This—” He circled his thumb and forefinger around the girth of the screwdriver and slid them up and down its length. “—is the slider ring.” Sherlock felt a pleasant chill run the length of his spine. “And that—” His thumb brushed lightly over the glassy, green globe. “—is the emitter tip.” He pressed the button, extending the claw suddenly and with a click.

Sherlock’s head fell back and he moaned as the Doctor sucked in his earlobe and gently bit down. He kissed along the elegant curve of Sherlock’s neck and down across his exposed collar bone. The detective rolled his hips against the Doctor’s cock, already straining against his trousers, and spun in his arms. He tugged the tails of the Doctor’s shirt out from his waistband and captured his mouth in a hard kiss before dropping to his knees and working to defeat the belt, button, and zipper standing in his way.

The Doctor heard the high-pitched whiny buzzing of the sonic screwdriver emanating up from his groin. “What are you doing?”

“Helping?” Sherlock glanced up innocently.

The Time Lord fisted his fingers into Sherlock’s curls. “I don’t need any _help_. Plus, that thing’s rubbish on wood.” He chuckled at his own joke. “Either stand up, or do something useful while you’re down there, will you?”

Though Sherlock wasn’t generally one to take orders, he knew the Doctor wouldn’t put up with his bullshit like most the people around him did. They needed him, but the Doctor was the first person, human or otherwise, who wanted him. He saw Sherlock for who he was, recognizing his brilliance and even keeping up with it… _most of the time_. He didn’t see him as an arrogant prick, but rather as an equal. Being wanted by a man of that caliber was nothing to scoff at, and he certainly wasn’t going to turn him down.

With only a gentle nudge, the Time Lord’s trousers fell, exposing his TARDIS blue boxer-briefs which were already soaked through near the waistband. Sherlock’s slid his palms up the Doctor’s thighs and groin, his thumbs tracing the outline of the time traveler’s cock. He nestled his face into the fabric still constraining it and tongued the length of it, biting occasionally at the cotton and tugging.

As Sherlock pulled down the elastic of the Doctor’s pants, a generous amount of pre-cum strung between his glans and the fabric. Another drop leaked out, and Sherlock caught it on the tip of his tongue before dragging it along the slit of the Time Lord’s cock. The clear fluid was hot and sweeter than that of any human he had tasted. He slurped greedily at it, lapping it up as quickly as it came. A slight tug of his follicles turned his gaze upward, and the Doctor was staring down at him, long, shaggy locks nearly obscuring his eyes. Sherlock held his stare as he licked from base to tip before sucking the Doctor in and swallowing him down as far as he could.

Though the Doctor had closed his eyes, low, guttural moans satisfyingly floating from his mouth to Sherlock’s ears, the detective refused to look away. The crinkling near his eyes, the furrow of his brow, the clenching of his teeth… All silent praise and Sherlock couldn’t get enough of it. He hummed against the Doctor’s cock. Sherlock rocked back and forth on his knees, his head bobbing rhythmically and him wantonly massaging his own prick through his trousers.

The man above him drew in a sharp breath. “Stop, please.” He was practically begging.

Sherlock stilled and withdrew his mouth. “Problem?”

The Doctor just shook his head and nodded toward the bed. 

“Losing your restraint so soon?” Sherlock chuckled. “Are you getting old? Or is my technique just that good?” An icy glare was his only response. He decided not to press his luck.

Sherlock sat at the foot of the bed, finished stripping off his shirt, and leaned back, dragging himself toward the headboard using only his elbows and fistfuls of the linens as leverage. Sherlock raised his hips to allow the Doctor to easily shimmy off his trousers and pants before waiting for further instruction.

The Doctor stared for a moment, drinking in the sight of his prize. “Turn over.”

There wasn’t even a moment’s hesitation. Sherlock rolled toward the bed’s center and buried his face into the pillows. He spread his knees and arched his back, presenting himself to his impatient lover. It was only a few seconds before he felt the warmth of a palm on each of his buttocks. Sherlock fumbled clumsily toward the bedside table and retrieve a small bottle and foil packet from the drawer. He laid them on the bed near the Doctor and rolled his hips slightly in anticipation.

The grip on Sherlock’s arse tightened, and he was spread wide. The Doctor’s tongue was soft and wet as he licked a thick stripe from the detective’s perineum and up his cleave, fluttering across his tight entrance. A few seconds later, two slick fingers teased the puckered flesh before wriggling inside. Sherlock sank in to the gentle stretch and was soon fucking himself on the Doctor’s digits. As they left his body, he whimpered.

Sherlock’s only consolation came in the sound of the foil packet being torn open. The wait seemed torturous, but he soon felt the cool drizzle of lubricant against his sensitive skin. The Doctor used the blunt tip of his sheathed cock to properly disperse it and then lined himself up. The detective knew they hadn’t spent much time on proper preparation, but the Doctor liked him tight and he rather enjoyed a little pain… at least more than most. It made him feel alive, and the Doctor understood that all too well. Still no action, and Sherlock grew impatient. “You realize we don’t all get to live hundreds of years, right? Any day now.”

“You’re treading on dangerous ground, you know.”

“Mm… How’s that?”

“There’s a reason they call me the Oncoming Storm,” the Doctor growled and pressed himself inside the mouthy detective.

Sherlock responded with a low whimper and pushed back. It had been a while for him. He wondered how long it had been for the Doctor, though. The last time he left, he could have just gotten in the TARDIS and been back, several weeks later, within mere seconds. Their relationship, if you could call it that, had already stretched several months, but it could have all been within the same hour for the Doctor. Or, alternatively, it could have spanned decades. There was so much mystery surrounding the space man pumping away behind him, and he was surprised it didn’t bother him more. Sherlock generally hated not knowing things, but he found it comforting with the Doctor. He spent so much of his time interacting with people he could easily figure out, he was able to rest his mind knowing it wasn’t worth even trying to deduce the Doctor. Seducing him always has a nicer outcome anyway… So did taunting him.

Sherlock grinned against the pillow. “You know, if you would angle to the lef—”

“Shut up!” 

“Fine, but even as little as a seventeen degree shift wou—”

“Still shut up! I’ve been at this for almost 900 years. I think I know what I’m doing.” The Doctor grabbed Sherlock’s hips tight, made the precise adjustment anyway, and slammed back into him. 

Sherlock let out a lascivious wail. “Told… you… so,” he panted.

“Worth it.” The Doctor held the angle and fucked him harder. “Just this once, everybody wins.”

Sherlock craned his neck around to look at the Time Lord, who had utterly just stopped. “Everything alright?”

The Doctor pulled out and sat, cross-legged. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m always okay. C’mere.” He nodded Sherlock over. “I want to try something different.”

There was a distinct shift in the man’s attitude. The cockiness had receded, and he looked more human than ever. Sherlock crawled over and knelt in front of him.

The Doctor gathered Sherlock in his lap, the detective’s legs wrapped around his narrow waist. Sherlock’s head hung back as the space man’s lips, teeth, and tongue fought for purchase against his neck and chest, and his arms draped down the Doctor’s back, their erections pressed tight against one another as they writhed in the embrace. It was definitely different.

Sherlock struggled to find leverage but finally balanced himself enough to sink back down onto the Doctor’s prick. His fingers were knotted into sandy brown locks, and his hips jerked against the man’s lap. A gentle torque on his spine created a glorious angle, and he ground hard against the cock that was currently massaging his prostate.

The taunts had been replaced with gentle grunting, whimpering, and moaning. It reminded Sherlock of the violin… somber but beautiful. He felt almost compelled to compose it when they were finished. The whole experience was turning into something absolutely amazing.

Sherlock bucked harder, and he slowly dragged his nails up his lover’s spine. Their foreheads were pressed together, sweat slick between them, when the Time Lord began to tremble. Sherlock’s eyes popped open. He’d never been in a position to watch the Doctor climax before, and he wasn’t about to miss the opportunity.

The vice-like grip around Sherlock’s ribcage tightened and a fine golden mist began to rise from the Doctor’s skin. It was almost shocking, but the accompanying noises suggested it was a good thing. He was still wary, but he didn’t relent. He planted a kiss on the Doctor’s mouth and hummed against his lips before drawing back to continue to watch.

A loud, breathy moan and a bit more of the golden mist escaped the Doctor’s mouth as he flexed inside Sherlock and jerked as he came. When he let go of Sherlock’s torso, he fell back against the mattress, panting. Sherlock wondered if what he witnessed always happened.

“Before you ask, the answer is yes.” The Doctor chuckled.

“The answer to what?”

“The… dust.” He rolled his eyes. “ Yes, it happens every time.”

“Hm.” Sherlock steepled his fingers just below his chin.

“Hm, what?”

“I thought it seemed like more of a mist.”

The Doctor quirked and eyebrow. “Not the reaction I was expecting.”

“The last time you said that was when I failed to comment on your precious ship being bigger on the inside.”

“Well, everyone seems to make some remark about that.”

“I’m not everyone.” Sherlock stared intently and stubbornly at the Time Lord. “You’ve come to the wrong man if you were looking for predictable.”

“That’s precisely why I’ve come to you.” The Doctor bit his lip. “Do you still have that riding crop lying around?”

“Hm.” He repeated himself. “I thought you’d be finished with me.”

The Doctor’s gaze dropped toward the detective’s swaying erection as he tugged off the condom, knotted it, and tossed it in the nearest bin. “Not. Even. Close.”

With a devious glint in his eye, Sherlock lift himself off of his lover and eased off the bed. He rifled around in the closet, tossing the wrong items haphazardly to the floor over his shoulders. When he finally found the crop, he held it victoriously above his head and spun on his heels. “Assume the position, Doctor.”

The Doctor slid off the bed, braced himself against the bedside table, and bent forward. Sherlock kicked his feet apart another few inches when he approached. He could see a bit of the Doctor’s face through the negative space between the man’s torso and bicep. All that mattered was the approving grin he received.

Sherlock reared back with the crop but stopped short. “Vatican Cameos? Or Chameleon Circuit?”

The Doctor paused to think. “Ah, what the hell… Vatican Cameos. I don’t suspect I’ll be using the safe word today, though.”

Sherlock smiled and trailed the riding crop down the Doctor’s spine before palming the man’s arse cheek and giving it a rough squeeze. He cranked his arm back again and the leather tip made contact with a loud smack, leaving an angry red mark in its wake. Sherlock’s cock twitched at the sound and again when he heard the Doctor whine. He repeated the process several times… SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!... each raising a welt in a rather alarming shade of crimson. When he felt like the Doctor had his fill, he dropped the crop and placed an open mouth kiss over each mark, smoothing over the irritated skin with his tongue. He dropped to his knees and urged the Doctor to do the same; he complied.

Sherlock sat back on his heels, one hand gripping the Time Lord’s thigh and the other kneading his arse, while he placed more wet kisses on the already purpling flesh. He hadn’t even heard the drawer of the bedside table sliding open or closed when he heard a foil packet hit the ground near his left knee. He stopped and looked at it. “Are you certain about this?”

The Doctor nodded against his own arm. “Oh, yes.”

“But we’ve nev —”

“I’m sure,” he insisted, his tone in complete agreement with his words.

“Very well.” Sherlock snagged the bottle of lube off of the bed and laid it next to the condom for easy access.

He ran a fingertip down the cleave of the Doctor’s arse, continuing until he was palming the Time Lord’s perineum. It was an exciting prospect, but one he simply hadn’t ever considered. Sherlock slid his hand back up to spread the Doctor open and flicked his tongue over the Doctor’s anus. It took all of the detective’s restraint to suppress a chuckle when he flinched hard in response. He applied his tongue again but traced tight circles around the entrance this time, eliciting a few well-placed moans. _Praise? Praise is good_. He lapped at the hole, stopping occasionally to allow his tongue to pulse against it, and then worked it inside. He darted it in and out several times before the Doctor’s knees seemed to threaten to fall out from under him.

Sherlock’s knee was between the Doctor’s thighs when he stopped to slick his fingers with lube. When he felt a drop on his knee, he thought he’d spilled from the bottle. Instead, he looked down to find the Doctor’s prick was already heavy, engorged, and leaking once again. His own cock throbbed a bit harder in response to the idea of it, the sight of it. He didn’t want to wait much longer.

He wriggled his middle finger inside the Doctor without much effort and rolled it in tight circles to begin to gentle stretch the muscle. When he could work in a second finger, he did. He scissored them to continue the process and then crooked them so as to brush the prostate he was happy to find the Doctor did indeed have. _Who knows with aliens, right?_

When Sherlock finally worked in a third finger, it was somewhat more of a struggle. He waited. The Time Lord was soon rolling his hips hard against Sherlock’s hand, though. Once they were in as deeply as they would go and his lover was all too excited to be fucking himself against Sherlock’s hand, he gently pulled them out in favor of getting the packet on the floor open as quickly as possible. He rolled on the condom, applied a generous amount of lube, and positioned himself at the Doctor’s entrance.

“NOW!” the man demanded, his face still buried in his arm against the bedside table.

Sherlock thrust inside with a low groan as the Doctor gasped. He stilled for a moment to allow his lover to adjust. “You alright?”

The Doctor grabbed his thigh. “Fuck me already, would you?”

Sherlock did as he was told. He wrapped one arm around the Doctor’s pelvis to hold him flush and sank back to his heels again, planting the space man firmly on his lap. Sweat cascaded down the man’s back, now flush with Sherlock’s chest and abdomen, as he bobbed up and down on Sherlock’s prick. Sherlock kissed and licked at the salt water on the Doctor’s shoulder blades and wrapped both arms around the man’s chest. He sought and found both of the Time Lord’s pert nipples, capturing and rolling them between his thumbs and forefingers. The Doctor moaned, and Sherlock bit at the crook of his neck.

Sherlock’s hand snaked down to the Doctor’s cock, and he offered a long, slow stroke. It was already dripping enough to completely coat his hand in pre-cum. He gave it a few more pumps but quickly succumbed to the temptation to lick his fingers clean. 

Sherlock wanted to taste the Doctor’s mouth again, but more importantly, he wanted the Doctor to taste himself on Sherlock’s lips. Sweat soaked locks stuck to both of their faces as their bodies torqued and struggled to allow their mouths to meet without breaking stride. They did their best with the angles they could achieve, tongue lapping at tongue and teething tugging at lips, both desperate for but completely unable to create any sort of seal. It just wouldn’t do.

He eased the Doctor off of his thighs and gently extracted himself before directing the time traveler to the bed. Sherlock was pleased to see him so quick, so desperate to obey. When he reached the bed, he knelt at the edge and licked a wide stripe up the underside of the Doctor’s cock, painted his own lips with the colorless fluid leaking from the tip, and stood up. He pressed a hard kiss to the Doctor’s lips, jutting his tongue in the man’s mouth to ensure he got a proper taste. When he felt himself being pulled deeper into the kiss, he delicately though blindly lined himself up again and pressed back inside his lover. The Doctor gasped, and his breath filled Sherlock’s mouth. _Satisfying._ The detective smirked.

Sherlock scooped up the Doctor’s legs, one over each of his arms. He hunched slightly so the man’s knees could rest easily on his biceps as he ground into him. The Time Lord arched his back to accommodate, though Sherlock expected he had a few less selfless reasons as well. As the slow grinding transitioned into thrusting once again, Sherlock placed one of his lover’s thighs back against the bed and gripped his cock. He stroked from base to tip and immediately felt the man tighten around him.

Sherlock watched predatorily as the Doctor, eyes screwed tightly shut, fisted his hands into his own hair and chewed on his bottom lip. The unsteady heaving of his chest with each ragged breath was a sight to behold. As he stroked harder and faster to keep up with his own thrusts, he saw the faint golden mist start to rise once again and smiled, pleased with his work.

The Doctor’s cock slip-sliding through Sherlock’s fist and his own cock simultaneously slip-sliding in the Doctor’s arse were almost too much alone. Knowing how close his lover was to climaxing again nearly pushed the detective over the edge. He didn’t have much restraint left as it was. Sherlock’s eyes darted across the scene over and over again… hands in his hair, biting his lip, ragged breathing, his own shaft disappearing and reappearing in glimpses, the Doctor’s glans peeking out the top of his fist on occasion, and that damn golden mist. 

The Doctor’s body went rigid, his muscles tightening and spasming around Sherlock’s prick, as he came in the detective’s hand. The hot, thick fluid ran down his fist, and he pumped it through the last drop. When the Doctor’s orgasm subsided, his body stilled, and the mist had dissipated like it never even existed, Sherlock licked his fingers clean once more. He gathered the Doctor’s fallen leg in his arm again, tightened his grip, and slammed into the space man fast and deep.

The tingling as the base of Sherlock’s spine would have to suffice since he lacked the mysterious mist, and he focused on his cadence. _Not long now_. His fingernails dug into the Doctor’s thighs, and his cock pulsed as ejaculate rushed the length of it. Soon, his vision went black followed by the brightest, most brilliant white, his body quaking almost beyond his control. His knees threatened to betray him, but he held on for dear life, thrusting through the most mind-blowing orgasm of his life. The Doctor’s arse was completely flush with Sherlock’s thighs when he rocked back on his heels and erupted several times deep inside his lover. He pulsed through his climax, and he was sure he came harder and longer than knew he could, certainly more so than in any previous encounter.

When he collapsed on the bed next to the Doctor and finally collected himself a bit, he carefully removed his condom and tied it up neatly. He took another few seconds before sitting up to drop it in the bin. Once it was safely disposed of, he fell back again and lazily batted at the Doctor’s drenched locks. “That… was… amazing,” he panted, still a little breathless.

“Yeah… mm… well…” The Doctor hesitated. “About the ‘mist’ as you called it…”

Sherlock’s eyes popped wide. “What about it?”

The Doctor brushed a wet curl off of Sherlock’s forehead. “Well… I suppose… I mean… I’m not sure…”

“What about it?” Sherlock repeated, his tone slightly harsher than moments before. “What is it?”

“Ah… What is it? Now, that I can answer. It’s regeneration energy. Thing is, I’m always careful to wear a condom and never to be brought off without one.”

“Right.” Sherlock cleared his throat, anxious to get to the point. “Safety first.”

“No, no… There are no STI’s communicable between human and Time Lord. It’s because of the regeneration energy in my semen. It’s harmless to me… just remnants of my last regeneration. I don’t want it getting inside anyone else though; I’m not certain how it might affect them.”

“Yes, fine. How is that a…” Sherlock stopped. He looked at his fingers and flashed back to the moment he sucked them clean. “Right… I ingested it. Did you not think to stop me?”

The Doctor tried to repress a smirk but mostly failed. “I’d just cum, and you were still fucking me senseless. What makes you think I was thinking at all?”

“Fair point. So, what now?”

“Well… I suspect it’s just a temporary energy boost, perhaps minor healing qualities. If you plan to injury yourself in anyway, now might be a prime time to do so. It’ll wear off within a few hours, but I suspect it might have slightly improved your orgasm.”

“I’d say slightly was a bit of an understatement.” Sherlock chuckled. “Still, no harm, no foul… or so it seems.”

The Doctor nodded. “Do let me know if anything strange happens though. I’m sure it won’t, but if it does…” He trailed off as he stood and re-dressed.

“Mm…” Sherlock shook off the worry. “A bit off-topic, but I must compliment your rather impressive refractory period, Doctor.”

The Doctor’s brow furrowed. “Refractory period?”

Sherlock smirked. “I’ll have to remember that for next time.”

“Who says there’ll be a next time?”

“There will.”

“Yeah—” The Doctor chuckled. “—there will.”

Sherlock’s face suddenly went sullen. “And then what?”

“Spoi—”

“And then what?” He asked again, but it sounded more like a demand. He knew there were things the man wasn’t telling him, and he couldn’t let it go. They seemed important.

“Hm.” The Doctor rolled his neck and tugged at his collar. “Soon, we’ll be spending a lot of time together, and it’ll be fantastic.” He sounded sincere, but Sherlock knew he was still holding out.

“And then?”

The Doctor sighed and looked at the ground. “And then we won’t.”

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter why, but if I do things properly, you’ll never see me again after that.”

“It does matter,” Sherlock insisted. “Of course it matters.”

“You’ll have something else in your life then… something that would make you turn me down.”

“I hardly think—”

“No.” The Doctor shook his head. “You’d be right in doing so. It’ll be worth it.”

“Rule one… the Doctor lies,” Sherlock snapped in response.

“And you’re brilliant enough to know I’m not lying right now.” Sherlock couldn’t argue. “But that’s what the past is for.” The Doctor pressed his lips to Sherlock’s forehead and headed for the stairs. “We’ll always have the past, and it goes on for ages.”

“Wait.” Sherlock descended the steps just a few beats behind the Doctor and stood in the door frame.

“No time. I have a… thing. Do apologize to Mrs. H. for me that I couldn’t stick around this time.” The Doctor kissed the corner of Sherlock’s mouth. “Till next time, detective.”

“Till next time.” Sherlock watched from the doorway as the space man climb into his impossible phone box and disappeared with that same familiar whir.

“Was that the Doctor leaving?” Mrs. Hudson called from the next room.

“Yes, sorry. He sends his apologies for such an abrupt exit, but he had a… thing to attend to.”

“Oh, he always does. Silly old Doctor.” She smiled. “Tea, dear?”

“Yeah, I’d love some.” He shut the door and retired to her sitting room. “You might hear my violin later tonight. I feel like composing.”

Mrs. Hudson set down his cup of tea and took a seat across from him. “Oh, don’t you worry about that. You know I love to hear you play. John might have a thing or two to say about it, though.”

“Mm.” _John… Husband?_ “Perhaps.” He smiled.


End file.
